


moonlight waning

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-09-22
Updated: 2007-09-22
Packaged: 2019-02-13 13:44:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12985311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: She can’t stop staring at his hands, strong and sure. She wants to find the two that made this one, thank them for their genes and the existence of those fingers and palms, holding her daughter together while something stalks around the outside of the house.





	moonlight waning

 

She can’t stop staring at his hands, strong and sure. She wants to find the two that made this one, thank them for their genes and the existence of those fingers and palms, holding her daughter together while _something_ stalks around the outside of the house. Another man - his brother, she thinks - is circling around them pouring a thick line of salt on the floor with a determination that is more than simple superstition.

That one has bigger hands - a finger span that would have sparked her imagination _and_ her sex drive before there was Michael- and now Clara. Now though, she’s more enamored with the hands that are smaller, the ones stained with grease and gun powder keeping steady pressure on the wound _//claw marks//_ ripping across her daughter’s side.

They’re in the center of the circle, Clara and this man, her body cradled in his lap like a baby even though she’s four now, declaring her age before her name when introduced. He’s leaning over her, face pressed close to the crown of her head and whispers of something like Latin filter through the near-empty room. Clara is too quiet, her blood standing out brilliant red against the tan of his hands and soaking through the shirt he’s pressing against her side.

The thing outside growls, something rough; like it’s swallowed a chainsaw along the way, until suddenly it stops in a silence so instant that she doesn’t even hear her own breath. It’s listening for them, searching out the rush of blood through their veins before it attacks and suddenly she remembers. _White teeth so sharp, glinting like a beacon in the moonlight._ She’s running but it’s faster, heartbeat pounding out of her chest as she tries to put distance between Clara and those claws, but she’s too big now to carry without her steps stumbling. Something’s ripping, she hears screaming and then gunshots, strong hands pulling Clara from her arms and running. How did she get here? She can’t feel anything in this room, floor so rough it should be putting splinters in her feet, but there wasn’t enough time to find shoes before they had to run.

It’s waiting just outside the door and the other man knows it, standing guard just inside with something silver tucked into those giant hands. The rescuer is holding Clara still, rocking back and forth with something like grief pouring out of him in waves. The air is shifting, like the universe collectively holding its breath as the door swings open, the man’s knife is faster than claws, sharp teeth and fur that melt down to leave Michael in their wake.

She tries to say his name but her voice is gone.

After that, time moves faster; deft, sure fingers stitching Clara’s side together with ugly black thread. Her body feels cold but Clara is warm, still curled up against the chest of the man that pulled her out of her mother’s arms, the one who saved her.

She doesn’t remember how she got here.

Clara opens her eyes, sees the two men watching her, her life owed to their strong hands.

Her body is still lying in the woods. She can feel the flames licking at her skin when they burn her. Michael’s body – the man she loved once more replacing the animal - lies next to hers in the grave. She wants to kiss Clara goodbye, but she’s already moving on. 

 


End file.
